


Make Your Own Ending

by WaltzQueen



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: everyone is freed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12406209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaltzQueen/pseuds/WaltzQueen
Summary: A Reader cannot remember the story-or-The Reader is sent into exile early





	Make Your Own Ending

  
At first, the Reader, still battered and half drowned from their trip through the river and the crash into the downside, cursed and cursed and wailed. Their mother was on death's door without her child there to send her off. Their best friend was getting married in a moon's turn. They wouldn't be able to see it. And despite it all, they were sorry they hadn't managed to finish their story.

  
The reader kicked feebly and clawed at the formless water, attempting to right themself from the grip of the vortex.Their lungs burned as their efforts remained fruitless. Air was nowhere to be found, only water.The water pushed against them, tossing them around until it was apparent, there was no way for them to escape. Through the panic the Reader cried, letting their tears join the others in the wash of that river.

  
And then , with a sharp yank, there was air.

\-----------

The demon woman was intimidating, to be sure, but she had saved their life. Suriving the trip Down in the first place and then finding someone willing to take in a crippled Reader, truly they had the Scribe's Luck. Or perhaps it was their protection and guidance, because their rescuers had a name for themselves, Nightwings, and a task. A  task specifically for them.

\------------

With the light of Ha'ub shining down on them the Reader thought about the story they never finished.  It had been found in a collection of stories about the past. The one in question had been an excerpt from a diary.

_Once in Illima, which would later become the west of the Commonwealth, a storm had been brewing, sending down thunder and hail._

"Heya, Reader. Seeing something new in the stars that we should know about?"Rukey bounded out of the Blackwagon, cheerfulness coloring the air around him as he sat beside them. The reader shook their head quietly. The stars were as constant as ever, a guide through the darkness of life, unfathomable, unbreaking. Despite the tempests that tore down buildings and nature alike, the Downside Prairie was momentarily calm, a clear contrast to the vivid images of the  Reader's mind.

"You must be thinking deep thoughts, eh?" Rukey laid down, head resting on his crossed paws. He laughed as the cloaked Reader shrugged with a gentle hum of amusement. "Well, i'm thinking deep thoughts, too...kinda." The temperate night air blew against the seated figures, weaving between the spaces between their bodies and their words with gentle fingers.

  
"I was just thinking, it's lucky we found ya, chum. You looked like you were going to end up in the western dessert and that's a one way ticket to the afterlife, that. We got lucky too. We haven't had this Blackwagon for long and sorely needed a reader, you know."

  
"Yeah," the Reader sighed, letting storms of hail rumble through their mind. "Lucky."  
\----------------  
_It rained and stormed for many days and nights. Houses and mills collapsed under the deluge. The folk of Illima were desperate for freedom from this terrible storm. One night, as the storm raged on a stranger appeared and offered to help them in exchange for a favor. He longed to see his love who lived on a mountain to the west. Having little hope for the storm to end and nothing to loose, they agreed._

  
Pamitha huffed and flapped her clipped wings furiously with unmitigated agitation. Despite the long standing bad blood between them, Jodariel was in much the same state for the same reason. Said reason had just washed ashore in the river. She has been in the Downside for only a year, which isn't the worst part. It is her bright smile as she declares that she was cast away for simply being strange. Altogether the Nightwings' scowls become expressions of sadness and astonishment as the vagabond girl says that she cannot even remember her own name.

She is the second in the Blackwagon without a name, the Minstrel Tariq having been named by the Guardian at the ScribesGate. And all of a sudden the Reader has company in that and it sets them ill at ease before they learn how to be a part of a group that consists of more than just themself. The Beyonder, Sandra, sees her worth and gifts her with a relic of Kayhmer Rope-Caller, the Grand Traitor. The Vagabond proves her worth when howlers attack, when the Dissidents challenge them in the Rites, when lost and hungry and seeking blessings.

  
Jodariel picks the twigs from the Vagabond's hair, making vauge attempts to brush it down with her black claws. Volfred reads tales of the Scribes to her, as she sits within the confines of Little Brother and makes shapes from his shed leaves. Pamitha roosts above her in the blackwagon, telling stories late at night, when the stars are yet unaligned and the day allows them a bit of energy beyond what is needed for sheer survival. Bertrude teaches her things about potions occasionally. The Reader tells her about Rukey Greentail and Hedwyn and Sir Gilman, who made it back to the Commonwealth before she arrived. Three moons after her arrival Volfred sits with the Reader late one evening.

  
They look up together, watching the threat of darkness tremble in he space between the stars from their seats on the stepf of the blackwagon. The remains of Shax Six Shoulders is an excellent vantage point despite everything else about it. They sit in silence as Volfred brings his pipe to his lips, hesitates and then moves downwind of the Reader. The initial meeting had left them both with a fair share of awkward maneuvering, though that had long settled into kindred familiarity.

  
"I have something I must discuss with you, Reader." The Reader settles on the wooden steps of the Blackwagon, trying to loosen the stiffness in their bad leg without hurting their back. "It is good that we have freed some of our compatriots and begun a plan, for I fear that something terrible may be on the Horizon." Volfred isn't facing them but they can hear the sound of houses falling in the way he says the words. It sounds like a gavel of a guilty sentence. The words feel like ice falling from the sky when he says"We may be running out of time."

  
\--------------------

  
_The people of Illima selected their strongest to take him up the mountain. The struggle was severe. The wind raged and howled ever harder as they approached the top of the Western Ridge. It took them fourteen days to carry him to the top of the mountain. When they made it to the very peak they discovered a curious sight. A harp was on the mountain top. Each wing was twice-over the size of a house and their feathers were a solemn grey. The harp wailed a ghostly wail and flapped their wings without end. The villagers watched as each shriek spewed rain and hail into the blustering gale the beating wings created._

  
"I deserve to stay behind," Pamitha said quietly into the mind of the Reader. "I betrayed my sister, she deserves it more."

"It is fine here, in this place. I have Little Brother and the Scribes will guide me. Do not be afraid." The Vagabond exclaims with a sunny smile.

"It is no trial for me to continue my workssss here, Reader." Bertude looks at them with a stern countenance. "Make your choice when you must."

"Nightwings," Volfred says, drawing their attention once again. "We have more than enough time for all of us to return through the falls. " He holds his unlit pipe in his lips, chewing on the end of it, giving them all a moment to consider his words."Even if we fail a Rite we should be able to all make it."

"Even the Reader?!" The Vagabond is in awe, joy lighting up her face. A darkness settles over them all as Volfred doesn't say anything for a long time.

"I'm afraid not. You must participate in the Rites to become worthy of the Shimmer Pool. And our Dear Reader," he says as the remaining Nightwings aside from the Vagabond try not to acknowledge the crippled elephant in the room, "can not." As though conducting a Rite they all look down with solemn faces, suddenly very aware that they were discussing their freedom before someone who would never even have the chance. They remember the Demon Oralech and length of his horns. The Reader smiles wanly and shrugs as though it were never a matter at all worth considering.

  
The Vagabond pulls down her symbol of the Scribes from its lofty position on the ceiling of the Blackwagon and hurries over to the Reader. All watch as she touches them again and again with the wooden sticks, chanting names and prayers. Up and down it goes; shoulder, knee, chest , bad leg, other shoulder, back to the good knee.

  
When she is done the Vagabond carefully sets her star back into its spot at the top of Little Brother."The Scribes speak to me sometimes and they give me lots of blessings, but now I've asked them to speak to you sometimes, too! So that you won't get lonely if we have to leave. The Reader clutches their arm, feeling the Brand of Literacy there and feels warmed.  
\-----------------------  
The stars are dimmer than they were before as they pass the splendor of the ScribesGate and the Guardian that bid them "Go With Glory." Only Volfred, Bertrude and Ti'Zo remain and if all goes well, one of them will be leaving. It is the cause of much concern.

"A Triumvirate musssst be had to complete a Rite."

"Kriiii-hiiiii hi hi." Ti'Zo shakes, agreeing that something must be done if they are all to escape.

"Perhaps another Nightwing, to flesh out the ranks?" Volfred taps his fingers absently against the wood of the Blackwagon.

"Perhaps the answer we seek is before us already" the Lone Minstrel says as serenely as ever.

"Hoooo?" Ti'Zo chrips in confused curiosity. Bertrude looks away from him and directly at the Reader, their mind and eyes sharp as ever. Volfred follows the Minstrel's line of reasoning well enough.

"Are you suggesting...?"

 Bertrude slithers over to the seated Reader, peering at their face through the shadow of their hood. "Thou art yet human enough for Hedwyn's mask, Reading-One."

"Bertrude," Volfred trembles with anger. "I never took you for a dreamer-"

"And We are not!" Ti'Zo and the Reader both flinch back at her outburst. Her back is now to them, but they can see her hair rising away from her head and can only imagine how frightening her expression must be. Volfred's brow furrows as he holds her stare. Bertrude turns back to the seated Reader, calmer now. "A triumvirate must be made, but not all of the Triumvirate must be of the same caliber. Thou need only be there, on the field."

"Readers have been part of the Rites forever. One that is ill equipped to compete is no great oddity." Volfred looks from the Reader to the Minstrel with great concern.

"And when it is only the Reader and one other? What happens then?" Volfred isn't mocking but genuinly curious.

"Find another Nightwing. Barker Asssshpaws seems content to win for the sake of it. I cannot imagine that he'll betray them."

"Trii Hii!" Ti'Zo agrees. The Dissedents have only ever played to win and there must be two among them that would willingly switch teams for a while.

  
Volfred closes their eyes and the Reader feels his presence brushing acoss the edge of their mind. It is full of wordless worry and questioning. The blackwagon settles into silence as the Reader prepares their answer.

  
"I'll do it."  
\--------------------------

  
They can't remember what happens next. The story was interrupted when the door was suddenly smashed open and their home invaded. There was no warning, no time to escape or hide anything. Their books were burned, all, and they were cast down into the river the very next day. They can feel the trepidation, the undescribale fear that came upon them as they watched the stories being cast into the pyre. Soon they would know how it felt.

The Reader held Hedwyn's mask in their shaking hands. The raiment was the Vagabond's, Hedwyn's having been too large for them. Outside the black wagon Volfred talked with Barker Ashpaws as they awaited their first Rite together. The Reader stood, uneasy, before the door, shifting their bad leg, which had been lashed to a plank of wood from the hip down. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but at least they could stand for as long as they needed to. They took a deep breath and settled the mask on their face.

\-------

"Reader," The Minstrel says, approaching them as they sit on the steps of the blackwagon, adorned in the Liberation Rite Raiment for what well may be the very last time. "We may not have a chance to speak again, after this. I may have to leave."

"I wished to say that I am grateful for having made your acquaintance. I will remember you with fondness and wish you well, this night and always. Go forth with Glory."

The Reader beckons the Minstrel over and stands with their help. Having come thus far, they need only take their final steps upon their quest towards freedom. Together they walk to the place of Rites, flanked by Barker Ashpaws, of the Dissidents and Ignarius, of the Tempers. Together they walk onto the field, the Reader's aura flaring out around them barely wider then the span of their arms. As the Minstrel turns to go the Reader stops him with a genteel hand on his shoulder. The two exchange no words, just a solemn look. Then, the Reader lets go.

\--------

They win. Of course they do. They've spent many moons practising working around the burden of a teammate that can barely move. They know all the possible tactics and plays that one can make to discourage or hinder themselves as well as they do how to hinder an opponent. Oralech and the other Nightwings he has allied himself with have lost, but...

The grief writ large across his face, the defeat in the slump of his gargantuan shoulders, all of it makes their heart weep. They were never meant to be free. They knew it from the beginning. But Oralech had his freedom stolen from him. Oralech had been cast down for something that was not even a crime. Much as the Vagabond. Unlike themselves. And when the ShimmerPool gives out its final gasp of power, the Reader takes Oralech by is clawed hand and leads him, wordlessly, there.

"Oralech, do you accept the Reader's choice or shall you make another?"

"No, I accept the Reader's choice...the Reader's mercy..." Oralech steps forwards, and is gone.

\-----------

The Rites are over. The stars all flung from the sky. There is only darkness here, now. Barker Ashpaws goes back to the Dissidents as planned. Ignarius does likewise. The Tempers have surely been missing him something fierce. The Lone Minstrel and the Gate Guardian, Tariq and Celeste, have not been seen since the last Liberation Rite. And the Reader?

They sit. Alone in a Blackwagon at the top of a sacred mountain. The remnants of a family decorating the walls, as if to prove that they had once been there. The Reader doesn't ask the drive imps to move the wagon. Why would they? There is no place for them to go. The Rites are over. The Stars are gone. So, they sit, at the top of the mountain, in the most Sacred and kind place in the Downside.

For many moons they live there, in the shadow of the Falls of Soliam. Spreading out thin rations, missing the company of people who wil never return. Awaiting the call of a star that will never shine again. Sandra talks with them, of course. But her tempers flare up more often these days and she does not wish to be disturbed for another moon's time so it is silent.

The reader watches the tempest in a jar and thinks Once in Illima a storm had been brewing. They make up many endings to the story.  The Harp is slain and the village freed. The traveler finds their love and their happiness calms the Harp. The villagers simply turn the Harp around and the winds and storms plauge them no more. The Reader wonders if Pamitha is up in the CommonWealth, knocking down houses. They laugh until they cry.

\-------------------

The Reader was loathe to go anywhere without the Beyonders Orb. Sandra was all they had and the reverse was true as well. Phantasmic company was still company and company was in short supply on Mt. Alodiel.  The Former Reader tucked the Orb into their shirt, shivering as the sphere chilled their skin.

The Reader left the shaded confines of the Blackwagon when the wind slammed the door closed behind them causing something inside to fall. They hurried back inside only to find the Vagabond's star on the ground. Bending over to grab it was difficult but seeing it laying on the floor hurt their heart more than bending could ever hurt their body.

They had grabbed it but there was no way that they could ever get close enough to the ceiing to put it back. Bending was painful but possible. Climbing the frame of the Blackwagon to hook a thin string around a nail was not. Unwilling to let it go quite yet, but still in need of fresh water, the Reader tucked the sturdiest edge of it into their loose belt. Maybe the Vagabond would feel it, wherever she was.

As the reader left the Blackwagon, they fancied they were feeling lighter today, as though the Scribe Ha'ub were carrying them on Imp's wings. Sitting next to the ShimmerPool to drink they imagined their back felt stronger, more able to bend easily, like they were as strong as Soliam.  And,  they imagined that this must be what flying felt like for a Harp when the Fall of Soliam reached up and engulfed them.  
\----------------------

"Vagabond Rope-Caller, it is not kind to drag people." Not that she could drag Jodariel anywhere. Her hooves and tremendous weight made it impossible for her to be dragged. The Vagabond was trying her best though, with Sir Gilman slung over her shoulders , Pamitha gliding behind her and Hedwyn's hand in hers. The midday crowd parted for the Scribes Come Again.

"You seem very excited, there, Missy. You want to tell us what's going on?" Rukey trotted along beside the rest of the former exiles.

"Yes, dear girl," Volfred said indulgently from his position at the end of this miniature parade. "We would all like to know why we are here."

"The Scribes! The Scribes! They have chosen them!"

"Chosen who? And for what?" Pamitha dipped low to the ground to be heard, not that it made much difference.

"Them! They have been Chosen!" The Vagabond let go of Hedwyn and Jodariel, running ahead with Sir Gilman as Ti'zo flitted behind her.

"I'm not the only one who thinks that 'chosen' has stopped sounding like a word, am I?" Hedwyn laughed at Rukey's quip. Jodariel and Pamitha said nothing but Rukey saw the small smiles on their faces all the same.

The buildings they passed were familiar, and as they continued after the girl they could see running barefoot down the streets it became apparent why. Up ahead was the Fountain. The place where the Fall of Soliam had deposited each and every one of them in turn.

"I was wondering when you would show up." Oralech sat next to Bertrude, who was rifling through a bag. "Late as ever Volfred."

"I think you shall find I am often right on time, Oralech." Volfred sat on Oralech's other side and leaned against him, mindful of bumping into his spiraling blue horns. "Perhaps you can shed some light onto what is going on here."

"I...felt...something. So I came this way. I do not know what it is that drew me."

"Some mystery that requires a diligent hand? I shall thrust myself, full heartily, into the solving of it!" Sir Gilman exclaimed, startling Ti'zo off of his perch on Oralech's horns.

"Tis the Fallsss." Bertrude supplied, pulling some herbs tied with a string of beads from her myserious bag.

"Tis the Scribes!" the Vagabond responded. "Tis the Scribe's blessing." She stood in the waters of the fountain, ignoring the various onlookers. "Oh, thank you!" The Vagabond laughed and began to dance with joy, shreiking with delighted laughter and splashing water everywhere.

"Enough of this," Jodariel said sternly. "What is going on?"

"Look, Look! They are coming!"

"I see nothi-" No soon had the demon spoken than the sky became red. Onlookers gave choked off screams of terror that died in their throats. All as one the former exiles became entranced as the waters of the Fall of Soliam shot clear into the previously clear sky.

  
 Each of them could feel the waters washing over them, phantoms of their ascendance from the Downside. The Vagabond continued smiling, breathlessly beholding the glory of the scribes. Bertrude prayed on her beads and herbs as she had when Sir Gilman had ascended. Oralech simply cried.

  
As quickly as it came, the Fall of Soliam was gone, returned to its inert state. Still, all who witnessed were as still as stone when something splashed into the fountain. Without a care in the world, the Vagabond dunked herself in the waters and pulled out her Scribes' Star. The leaves on it had not faded or cracked or even withered, with the years she spent away from it. It looked as pristine as the day she hung it from the rafters of Little Brother.

  
"A Scribe's gift?" Volfred muttered under his breath in wonder, the first sound since the Fall had appeared.  
The second sound was far less quiet as a person fell from the sky and into the fountain.

  
The splash soaked Oralech, Volfred and Bertrude and pushed the Vagabond out of the fountain entirely. Jodariel caught the thin girl before she washed away with the tide, stunned. Jodariel jumped over to the fountain, still holding Vagabond Rope-Caller in one protective arm.

  
The other exiles all came and peered into the fountain, unable to see all the way to its depths. They all jumped back in surprise when Sandra appeared before them.

  
"You are all as foolish and stupid as i remember you." Her sneer was as powerful as ever as she sharply said" They can't swim, you lazy louts. Pull them out!"

  
"I shall do it!" And without a spared second Sir Gilman flung himself into the water.  
\------  
The Stars. The Stars were around them, floating in the water. The Reader had only ever looked up at the Stars, but now it was as though they were among them, high in the vastness of the night. They were afraid to breathe even the most shallow of breaths for fear of interrupting the Stars around them. The darkness felt cool and clean as They spoke.

  
**Reader, Reader** , they called, pushing into their mind. Each Star gowed in tandem. Purple ,gold and white. Silver, green and blue. All of them as vibrant as they had been their entire lives.  **Reader,you followed our path** A path appeared before them, a road of light in the darkness of space. As they walked down it the Reader saw flashes of the past. When Jodariel got banishment sickness. The time that Ti'Zo caught a fish big enough for all of them to share. Volfred and the Lone Minstrel chatting  in the main room of the Nightwings' blackwagon. **And have learned the lesson we all hoped that every exile would.** The Book of Rites appeared at the End of the Path, shining in the dark. As the reader came closer it became brighter. **So now we grant you..** The light was almost unbearable.  **....the last of our mercy.**

  
The light consumed them. Then, with a sharp yank, there was air.

  
The Reader gasped as they came to the surface, the darkness and the Voices of the Scribes falling away. They coughed and hacked, forcing the water out of their weak lungs. Their eyes watered as their body did its best to survive whatever the Fall of Soliam had done to it. It all felt very reminiscent of their trip into the downside. They didn't curse. They didn't curse of wail, just cough, ignorant of the sound around them, hidden beneath the beating of their heart. Fragile at the best of times and unable to cope, the Reader fell into unconsciousness, with the light of the Stars in their eyes.

  
The Reader at last  
Made the Nightwings whole, and ascended to freedom  
They have found their way home

**Author's Note:**

> They find the Vagabond later, because she had only been in the downside for two years when you find her in the game.


End file.
